Asiya (ah-SEE-yah) stood in front of the hospital looking into the street; she saw nothing but rain. It was nearing the end of the monsoon season. The sun would come out soon, but it would take another month for the land to dry. With this thought, she smiled, opened her umbrella and ran for the city bus. As the bus weaved through the watery streets, Asiya gazed out the window. The cityscape made no impression; her thoughts kept her pre-occupied. Every detail swam through her head. This project had taken years to get off the ground. The government and private funding were a nightmare to get going, let alone the plans and permits. That was all behind her now, in two months, the architect’s drawing was going to become a reality. The bus came to a stop; Asiya snapped back from her thoughts and started the brisk walk home. Upon entering the main hallway, her mother called to her from the kitchen where hot Darjeeling tea was waiting for her. The smell of hot samosas filled the house. These were her favorites. The spiced potato filling with onion, peas and coriander surround by fried pastry was the perfect ending to a long week of work at the hospital.
* * * *
The final bell had rung indicating the exam was over. Numair (noo-MAIR) put down his pencil and looked over his calculations as he walked to the professor’s desk. Numair stared out the window. The rains were not as heavy now; the signal that the rainy season was coming to an end. This was the only time he could ever remember being so happy for rain. He even prayed to Allah for more rain, but he knew his prayer was selfish and arrogant and would not be answered. Gathering up his backpack, Numair headed out of the class room. He meandered down to the first floor and just stood in the lobby; finally, he walked over to the bench near the side wall, pulled out a history book and just read for a while. He was not interested in going home just yet.
The walls of the Mathematics department were old stone and cold. The noise of people echoed though the lobby and up into the stairwell. This building was built in the 1900’s even though the Government College University had been in existence for almost 60 years. An hour had past and Numair was finding himself a bit hungry. He packed up and headed for the bus stop. While riding home, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty the city always looked after the rains. Oral ledged dates the city, Lahore, back 4000 years.
While looking out the bus window, the Badshai Mosque came into view. The light rain created a bit of a mist around the orange, 17th century brick structure with spiraling towers. It seemed to be floating in the clouds. Numair just started at its beauty. His father took him there to pray during Ramadan every year. The bus turned the corner, and the mosque disappeared from site. The bus finally came to a halt. Numair grabbed his backpack and jogged home in the light rain; his mind cleared from his worries. As he opened the front door, he could smell the Samosas. He quickly put his items away and walked briskly into the kitchen. His sister and mother were engrossed in a conversation. “You ate all the mango chutney?” he pouted and stormed out of the kitchen.
* * * * *
Four months passed since the rains. Numair sat on the porch of the medical clinic reading one of his history books; while his sister closed up for the evening, he just wondering why he was here and not in school. His dad had insisted he chaperone his sister on her trips. They were only 3 days at a time every few weeks; she would be fine without him. There was another doctor here and two nurses. No one tried to compromise Asiya’s honor or ransack the center. He just didn’t see the point. Numair looked at the sun setting in the distance against the orange color of the mountains and decided to get ready for evening prayer. Something moving slowly in the distance caught his eye. As it came into view, he realized it was a woman pulling a child of 7 or 8 on a stretcher, which tied to her waist. “Asiya,” he screamed franticly, “Asiya.” She came running to the porch. As she turned to look, she saw the woman collapse to the ground from exhaustion. “Help me,” Asiya said as she grabbed her brother’s arm. They both took off running towards the woman and child. They frantically untied the stretcher from the woman. The child had a badly broken leg and cried in pain. The doctor and her brother picked up the stretcher and carried the boy as quickly as possible into the medical center. After the boy was placed safely on the examination room table, they both ran back out to help the woman into the other examination room.
“Numair, take care of her. Get her some water,” barked his sister as she ran into the other room to see about the boy. Numair, fetched a cup of water for the woman and listened. The woman explained how she came to carry her son by herself. Her husband managed a rather large herd of buffalo, and with sightings of thieves in the area, he was not able to leave the livestock unattended. Moments later, Numair heard his name called from the other room. He ran to his sister. As he entered the examination room, Numair thought he was going to vomit. The bone from the child’s leg was sticking out of the skin. He was in such a rush before he hadn’t noticed it until this moment.
“Numair, I need to you hold him while I set his leg.”
“The other doctor and nurses should be back from town soon…”
“This child cannot wait anymore; come help me!”
“Stand at his head and scoop your arms under his arm pits and hold him firmly…Now.”
Numair did as he was told, and within seconds, the boy was screaming in pain as Asiya pulled on his leg and popped the bone back into place.
“Numair, I need you to get a pan of 2/3rd water and 1/3 alcohol and a clean cloth.” Again, he did as told and then just stood by the boy. The sister explained how to bath someone. “Just maintain eye contact with him. Tell him a story from one of those books of yours.” Numair fumbled with the damp cloth for a second and began talking in a sing-song voice like his mother used a hundred times before when he was sick; he asked the boy his name.
“Sameer,” replied the boy.
“Well Sameer, there once was a prince named Lava.” Numair recanted the tale of how his city, Lahore, was created all the while keeping eye contact and wiping down Sameer’s face and arms. Asiya knew the cleaning had no physical medical purpose for mending the boy’s leg; however, it calmed Sameer while she formed his cast, and it gave her brother something to do. After the story told, the leg casted, and the boy had eaten, Numair sat next to Sameer for awhile without words.
Quietly in a very small voice Sameer spoke, “Evening Prayers, I didn’t say them.”
“I didn’t say mine either; do you want to say them together, now?”
“But I cannot get to the floor.”
“To be humble before Allah, simply bend at the waist as far as you can. Now bow your head.”
After making sure the boy was situated, Numair quietly knelt on the floor; together they said their evening prayers.
